Our Broken Pieces
by WhiteOphelia
Summary: Follow-up to "The Ghost of my Love". Darcy has left the United States with two bags, a broken heart and a soul in pieces. After traipsing through Europe for months, she finally decides to settle in Bucharest, Romania. On a Monday morning - things always happen on Monday, don't they? - Fate will put her on the right path: that of healing, and love and acceptance.


This story is the follow-up to "The Ghost of my Love"  
That's why I advise to read that one before starting with this new story - that will be a multi-chapter one.  
I hope to be able to post once a week or once every two weeks, but since this is not my mother-tongue and every chapter has to be betaed before being posted, I can't really promise I'll always be on time with the updates.

I'll try my best, I promise.

Hoping to make all of you WinterShock fans out there happy, especially those who asked me for this sequel ;)

A big THANK YOU to my beta, SarcasticBimbo. I really hope I didn't give you gray hair - and a heck of a headache - with my butchering of your own language!

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 **Chapter I: Things always happen on Monday, don't they?**

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 _"It's down to you and me, in this cold and empty street_  
 _Forgotten what we're living for. Just tell me what is right,_  
 _'cause it's more than what's inside... 'cause I can't see it anymore._

 _[...]_

 _Don't let go yet, don't settle for less_  
 _And everything you are... Why are we so incomplete?_

 _When all I own is just dust-Just dust and gold;_  
 _when all I see are kings and thieves,_  
 _when all I own is just dust and gold..._  
 _So rescue me, rescue me._

 _Rescue me._

 _So rescue me."_

\- Arrow to Athens, Dust & Gold

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 _May 4, 2017 - Bucharest, Romania_

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Walking through the farmers' market, even if it was a Monday morning, was never so peaceful in the hustle and bustle of New York City - an energy and liveliness that touches even the quietest of places in the city that never sleeps.

Here, though, things were different. _So, so different_.

The sweet smell of ripe, plump, red strawberries assaulted her senses and her legs moved towards a little stand just a few steps ahead of her, with its wooden benches full of colourful and delicious fruits.

Darcy stopped at the little stand and started looking for the scented strawberries her nose had picked up from the other side of the street. Beside her, a man was looking and touching some plums, vibrant and fragrant and with a sweet smell coming off of them. He was talking quietly with the old woman owning the simple, little stand, his romanian fluid, as only that of a native can be.

Darcy knew a few words, not many, but she could understand they were talking about the fruit the man was gently tasting.

His voice was soft, even with that smoky quality of his. It seemed the kind of voice a person has when just awoken, a bit hoarse, but in this man's case it just added to its appeal. _Husky,_ her mind supplied.

Yes, his voice was husky, and sexy - just like that half smile that's gracing his lips.

The old lady, after handing a simple bag to the man, turned her head towards Darcy, a gentle smile her first greeting.

" _Buna draga. Cu ce vă pot ajuta?_ " her smile was sweet and kind, so similar to Darcy's own grams that a bit of nostalgia clenched her heart.

She shook the feeling off while shaking her head as if to clear it, before smiling back to the old lady and stiltedly replying to her greeting.

" _Buna dimineata, doamnă. Eu_ —emh- _as dori—as dori niste_... Crap, how do you say strawberries?" she finished mumbling, a little furrow grazing her forehead.

The man swiftly turned towards her, his eyes a bit wide.

Darcy smiled at him a bit shyly, her cheeks reddening a little thinking about the terrible impression she was giving, but the man relaxed a bit after seeing her embarrassment and started smiling slightly.

Darcy nodded before turning and motioning with her hands to the lady to give her a minute, while the other hand rummaged through her bag for her mini-dictionary.

She was in the process of looking for the word when she heard the man asking for the strawberries.

" _Fragă_ , right! That. Emh, _as dori_ —" but her rambling was interrupted by a little laugh coming off the old lady.

Dracy flushed bright red and was about to apologise for her broken romanian when the lady waved her off and picked some red - so, so red - strawberries for her and put them in a little paper bag. Darcy smiled, grateful and touched, and started for her wallet when the lady told her something she didn't quite get.

The man laughed a little then, thanked the lady and turned toward Darcy.

"She said they're free. Just a little present for such a lovely young girl."

Darcy smiled again, bigger and brighter this time, and thanked the old lady with a heartfelt _mulțumesc_ before waving in goodbye and turning to the man - the very tall, very bulky, very handsome man.

Wow, those eyes are so clear...

The man handed her the bag with his right hand and his fingers grazed her own. They were so warm she thought he must run a fever.

The brunet smiled kindly at her before turning away and heading somewhere else.

Darcy kept looking at him, a nagging sensation bothering her, till he disappeared. She looked at her bag, took a strawberry out and bit it. A moan left her lips when the plump fruit touched them and its juice ran down her chin a little. It was perfect, ripe and delicious.

She took another one out and turned on her heel, her next stop the last one: her flat.

She walked down the streets, the gentle wind blowing her hair and the sun warming the skin of her face while her red-tinted fingers kept plucking strawberries out of her bag. She took a big breath and looked at the clear blue sky. Clear blue...

 _Those eyes, I've seen them before._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Another monday morning, another trip to the farmers' market.

Those strawberries she bought last time were so good, she decided that her first stop would be the little lady's stand.

When she reached it, the woman recognised her and waved at her, showing her her new bunch of red goodness.

Darcy smiled and nodded. A moment later, the same bag of last time was full of the luscious fruit and she was about to pay and wander off when she cought sight of a few plums. She smiled to herself and, in stilted romanian, asked the lady if she could have some of those too. When the bag was full and the money exchanged, Darcy told her that those were for the man that helped her last time. She didn't have to say much, just mentioned the brunet man who bought plums, for the woman to understand. She took the bag and put it aside.

Darcy was about to say good-bye when an idea struck her. She took a piece of paper out of her bag and wrote a few lines on it; she re-read it, nodded to herself and handed it to the woman. The old lady shook her head and smiled, took the thin paper and clipped it to the bag.

Darcy beamed. They exchanged their goodbyes and, with a hand already grabbing for the fruit, Darcy went about her day.

She bought some vegetables and some meat, a bit of pasta and some bread before she found herself walking back home.

She hoped the man would take her up on her offer soon.

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He didn't know what to think.

She was american, that was for sure - her accent couldn't be misinterpreted. But what was she doing here, in Bucharest? May wasn't the period of turists; yes, a lot of them were around the city throughout the entire year, but she seemed to live there, at least momentarily. She was buying food that needed a kitchen, a hoven or a burner to be ready to be eaten - he took a look at the grocery bags she already had and you can't buy meat if you have no place to cook it.

So, what was she doing here? Was she a student, maybe? One of those exchange programs that colleges love to do nowadays? Or was she—was she an agent? Was S.H.I.E.L.D. still tracking him? Was HYDRA? Was Steve?

HYDRA would have taken him with force. They would have sent strike team after strike team to abduct him or, in case that wasn't possible, to take him out - they already tried, more than once, for the past three years without success; even if they got quite close a couple of times.

S.H.I.E.L.D. - yeah, there was no way Agent P. Coulson ( _level threat 2_ ) could hide his renewed agency - was bound to use this kind of subterfuge. They loved their undercover missions - _not a mission anymore, not a mission_ \- and they would know what to use to exploit his weakness - civilian-looking agents were their best bet to use his renewed morality against him, and women to use his renewed sense of chivalry; so that was a possibility.

 _Steve._

Steve would know. If Steve had even an inkling of why he decided to stay away - _need to sort my head out, my ghosts, my hands are red, so, so red_ \- he would know that a woman like that could be one way to lure him out.

She seemed to be coming out of his dreams, with those blue eyes, that red mouth an that body so similar to the girls he liked when he was-when he was still Bucky.

But Steve wouldn't use this method. He was too good, too righteous to deceive someone like that.

So, S.H.I.E.L.D. remains.

He needed to be more careful.

He needed to look into that girl.

 _Who was she?_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Two weeks passed and Darcy didn't receive any kind of answer.

She came back to the old lady's stand but the sweet woman told her that the man hadn't come back to the market since the last time they both saw him.

She wasn't deterred.

She kept on buying her strawberries and plums for him, the same bit of paper attached to the brown bag.

They became kind of accomplices, the old lady and her.

They drank tea together when the market closed at the end of the day.

They spent hours talking together, with Darcy learning and learning everyday something new of that new language, that new country and that new culture.

After three weeks, she started to come to the market only for Adela and her company.

She always brought "homework" with her and the old lady kept aiding her with the language, till the day she met Adela's granddaughter, Mădălina. She was a 19-year-old student that came home for a bit of a break from Boston, where she was accepted as a student in a foreign exchange program for students from eastern Europe.

Mădălina and Darcy became thick as thieves and they helped each other with the language they were studying.

Adela was so happy she started to call Darcy _nepoata mea,_ inviting her to Sunday lunches and pretty much every birthday and festivity of her family.

In a matter of days, she met Adela's Russian husband, Vanko, her four children - Alexandru, Mădălina's dad, Alina, Andrei and Anton, or the four As, as Darcy started to call them in her mind - and became an honorary niece to the both of them - and the three cats: Soare, Lună and Roză.

She was beginning to feel more and more at home with every passing day, and her heart seemed to feel a bit lighter, a bit less broken every new dawn.

 _The jarred pieces of her being started to feel whole again, like puzzle pieces finally finding a home._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Two months and half after the last encounter, Adela found the kind brunet man in front of her.

She smiled at him and he smiled back, even if she could sense the tiredness exuding off of him and a bit of weariness; while not overtly looking behind his back, Adela's felt his restlessness.

Whe he asked her for some plums, Adela's smile got bigger and she squatted down to take a bag out of the bench retro. She gave it to the man still smiling and told him they were already paid and that they've been waiting for him for weeks now - a new bunch every Monday.

The man took the proffered bag and looked inside, before taking the paper attached and read it.

His eyes widened a bit before narrowing.

He thanked her with a small tilt of his head and scurried away without looking back.

Adela didn't know what to think of it. She put her hands on her hips and kept looking at the point where he had disappeared. She only hoped that man was a good man and that he wouldn't break Darcy's fragile heart.  
The girl's just started to put the pieces together and she would die before seeing her broken again, like the first day she glimpsed her walking through the market almost half a year ago.

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 _Hi! I know this probably seems pretty weird to you but I'd like to, well, thank you for your help with the strawberries._

 _My romanian is faulty at best and I'm still learning, but I couldn't resist that red goodness!_

 _And you just swooped in and saved this not-such-a-damsel but very-in-distress._

 _So, would you like to grab a coffee?_

 _I'll meet you tomorrow at the "Flowers and Café"_

 _down the street from the market at 11 a.m_

 _Hope to see you soon,_

 _Darcy x_

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Waiting was awful.

Who said that the waiting of pleasure is a pleasure itself? That was totally moronic to say, if Darcy could say so.

It was Tuesday, and it was only 10.42 a.m.

She knew she was early, but she couldn't find it in herself to wait a minute more before dashing out of her flat.

When Adela's called her to tell her the man had come to the market, Darcy nearly vibrated.

Adela's laughed at her enthusiasm, but then asked her if she wanted for her nephew Sergiu to come with her for protection.

Darcy almost melted at the concern and affection in Adela's voice, but she waved her concerns away telling her that she had her trusty taser with her if anything should happen.

Appeased with the knowledge that Darcy could protect herself, Adela wished her good luck and reminded her of the "bingo seară" for the next day. Adela's family was surprisingly ruthless when it came to games.

Darcy agreed to the game and told her not to worry and that she would tell them all the details about her morning the following night during their break from the bingo.

The two said goodbye to each other, but not before Adela told her that Mădălina would be coming to her house after dinner to choose a dress for her "hot date".

Darcy laughed so hard she almost tumbled down the sofa, before hanging up and dancing around her living room.

 _Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough._

But then, tomorrow came, and with it the clock rang its eleven "dongs", and then its eleven and a half, and then its twelve... But of the man there was no trace.

When the old clock rang 1 pm, she decided to head home.

It wasn't worth it to keep waiting for someone who was abviously not coming.

As soon as she started to get off her seat, a shadow loomed over her.

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He didn't know what to do.

What if it was a trap?

He had done a bit - more than a bit - of reconnaissance on the market lady's family and he had observed the girl for weeks now.

He knew where she lived, what she usually cooked, when she went to sleep, and how much she was loved and accepted by the family of the old market lady.

He couldn't find a single file on her on the internet, not even in those that Наталья dropped from HYDRA.

Not a single file on a person wasn't a good thing.

Not good at all. It meant that someone looked for them and erased them, that someone didn't want people to know about the person in question.

After three weeks of nothing on the Darcy front, he received a message on his laptop. That in itself was a surprise.

Someone tracked him.

A Russian someone.

He opened the e-mail and the file attached and found a file under the name of _Lewis, Darcy Anne._

Natalia has always been resourceful.

He look through her file for a whole night, learning about her studies, about Thor and Jane, about HYDRA and her name on the first round of "removing of undesirables" that the helicarrier should have done, he learned about her job at Stark Industries, that it had lasted until the previous fall when she quit. There were no reasons behind it, no formal letters, only that one in which she let her boss, CEO Virginia Potts, know that she would terminate her employement - effective immediately.

It was accepted. The CEO of Stark Industries and Tony Stark himself offered her a job in another of their branches, wherever she wanted to go, but it seems that she refused with no known reasoning behind it. Just a simple refusal.

She packed a couple of bags a week later and left the States for the Old World. She travelled through Norway, Finland, Russia, France, Spain and Italy before coming to Romania where she decided to settle for a bit.

Her file ended with the information about her last residence, nothing more.

Looking at the email, he saw another file to download.

He did.

And he sure wished he hadn't.

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Darcy looked at the man in front of her and couldn't say a word.

He was even more handsome that she remembered.

His blue-gray eyes were clear - unbelievably light - and his smile a bit sad, but genuine.

She reseated and gestured for him to do the same.

He sat in the seat in front of her and called for a waiter to ask for a black coffee, before turning towards her. Darcy shook her head and asked for the equivalent of an American latte, then turned towards him and waited for him to start talking.

They stared at each other for a few moments, when he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry", was all he said.

Darcy recoiled a bit. What was he sorry for?

She asked him exactly that and he gave a little huff, before adjusting his baseball cap.

"I'm late, and my Ma taugh me better that to leave a dame waiting".

Darcy remained still, immobile. _Ma. Dame. Brooklyn accent._

Darcy had a moment of clarity.

Those eyes she knew because she had already seen them. On a glossy paper, a paper sheet from a book a long time ago, when her U.S. History class started studying WWII.

That face was so familiar because it was the same one that stared at her from a projected image on a screen, and a cardboard in a museum at home, in Washington D.C.

That man was...

"Sergeant Barnes?" Darcy asked, breathless.

Of course it was him! And of course she had to stumble upon the man her ex-boyfriend was still looking for. He and Sharon. They both were looking for him, like half of S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA and most of the world's Governments.

 _The Winter Soldier..._

Bucky looked her in the eye and nodded.

"Please, call me Bucky, Darcy".

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 **A/N**

My Romanian isn't faulty at best, it is actually non-existent. The only word I know is mulțumesc and the name of a few desserts. So, I asked help to Google: I translated the sentences I needed with Google Translate, then checked them on the internet in various languages forums and communities. They should be correct - should- If not, please let me know so I can correct them as soon as possible.

While I'm at it... I'm so sorry, all my romanian readers, if I misspelled your language and used it incorrectly :(

Translations:

 _Buna draga. Cu ce vă pot ajuta?_ \- Hi, darling. How can I help you?

 _Buna dimineata, doamnă. Eu—emh— as dori—as dori niste_ \- Good morning, Madam. I—emh—I'd like some...

 _Mulțumesc_ \- Thank you

 _Fragă_ \- Strawberry

 _Soare, Lună and Roză_ \- Sun, Moon and Rose


End file.
